Page 90 of Prodigal Son

“Isn’t he perfect?” Grace whispered, flashing her a glimpse of the precious bundle. Never in her life had she seen anything so miraculous.

“You were right. It’s a boy.”

Gracie grinned. “I have a gift for knowing such things.”

Despite her exhaustion, Anna held out her arms to hold her baby boy. Adam cradled her close and stared, mesmerized at their new son.

The couple smiled into the face of the swaddled child, a perfect picture of love and family, and Destiny felt a pinch of envy for their happiness. Although the baby was premature, he appeared a healthy size for a newborn.

“Here.” Dane held out a quilt to her. “You’re shivering.”

“Thank you.” Destiny accepted the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

She and Dane left the room to give the family some privacy. Happy to wait by the wood stove in the kitchen, she silently imagined the precious moments unfolding upstairs.

Destiny had always assumed she’d have kids, but as the years went on and her love life fizzled, she wasn’t sure a family was in her cards. She and Cain had been incredibly irresponsible these last few days, and she selfishly wondered if she might take home a souvenir. Not that she was one for entrapment, but seeing Anna and Adam’s baby filled her with all sorts of longing.

A floorboard creaked and she looked up from the fire. Grace carried a basket of soiled linens down the stairs and set them by the front door. “Someone has to notify the bishop and give him a name for the records. Dane, would you mind?”

Dane stood. “Did they name him?”

Grace seemed to purposefully keep her expression blank. “Cain Paul Hartzler.”

Dane’s shock matched Destiny’s. They were naming the baby after Cain?

“I know what you’re thinking, but Anna insisted.”

Once again, Destiny worried the baby might be Cain’s. If it was, it would still look like Adam’s. She was so confused.

Dane frowned. “Who’s Paul?”

Grace shrugged. “Some McCartney fellow Anna admired.”

Destiny did a double take. “McCartney, as in The Beatles?” How the hell did an Amish chick know who The Beatles were?

“I’ll deliver the message to the safe house. I need to see the bishop anyway.”

“What for?” Gracie’s curiosity shifted into concern and her mouth pinched shut.

“I was going to talk to you about it later,” Dane said, his eyes regretful.

“Well…” Grace gathered the basket of linens, her demeanor falsely pleasant when something had obviously upset her. “I should get back to Anna and the baby.”

They went their separate ways and Destiny was left alone. The sky had cleared and it looked like a safe time to go back to the house. She wanted to find Cain and tell him about the baby, since no one seemed worried about informing him.

She hung the quilt over the back of a wooden chair near the fire to dry and quietly let herself out the front door. The ground was saturated from the rain and the air smelled of damp earth. Torn leaves clung to siding and puddles formed gullies on the ground, and she came up short when Vito snapped, “Where the hell have you been?”

Destiny flinched and paused from stripping off her muddied boots. Vito stood in the hallway on the other side of the kitchen, clothes drenched and hair ragged.

“What happened to you?”

“I was in a fucking hurricane and almost died, and we’re on an Amish farm so there’s nothing stronger than cider here for me to drink. My nerves are shot.”

“Why are you shouting?”

“Because it’s been a day. Where’s Gracie? Cain’s sick and I don’t know what to do for him.”

Destiny’s joy slipped away. “What do you mean sick? Where is he?”

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